Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

man of ice from minutes before evaporated in the heat of his anger. And beneath the rage, she heard the cry of a small boy, afraid and hurt and very lonely. It made her feel sad. Hot prickles burned behind her eyes. Her heart felt wrenched into a thousand pieces. ‘I do not have your letter. Even if I did, why dredge up history?’

      He inhaled a long, slow breath and let it go. ‘For the sake of my sanity. If you won’t help me willingly, I will find the truth without your help.’

      She reached out, put her hands on his forearm, felt the quiver of sinew and muscle as he steered the horses in a tight circle. ‘Please, leave well alone. If anyone had the letter, they would have used it by now. Perhaps the wind blew it away.’

      He shook her hand off, flicked his whip above his leader’s head and set the team into a gallop.

      ‘Slow down,’ she said as they turned on to the Mall. He didn’t seem to hear. Too busy driving to an inch, setting his team at impossibly narrow spaces with mere inches to spare, his face set like granite. He was angry, but he really had the wrong end of the stick.

      It wasn’t very many minutes before he set her down at her door. He didn’t bother to escort her inside. He helped her climb down, then whipped up his horses and left her standing on the curb.

      She nibbled at the tip of her glove, remembering those long-ago days. They’d all changed so much. Her, Garrick, William. Only Sissy remained the same.

      She shivered.

       Chapter Ten

      Eleanor thought she might expire from lack of air. The Smithwicks’s ballroom was far too small for the number of guests invited. She couldn’t see the dance floor for the crowds as she squeezed her way back to her aunt from the withdrawing room.

      She sat down. ‘Where is Cecelia?’

      ‘She was here a moment ago. Beauworth asked her to dance.’

      Her heart jolted. ‘Beauworth?’

      ‘Mmm. Asked very prettily, too. Made her laugh.’

      Why would Beauworth ask Sissy to dance? She didn’t like the unpleasant little twinge in her stomach. She craned her neck to see around the group of friends clustered in front of her. ‘I don’t see her.’

      I will find the truth without your help. That was what he had said. He had better not involve her sister in his plans. A chill breeze came out of nowhere, lifting the hairs on the back of her neck, a feeling of impending doom. ‘I’ll go and look for her.’

      ‘She’ll be back when the music stops,’ Aunt Marjory said. ‘I’ve never heard it said Beauworth had a taste for misses in their first Season.’

      He’d had a taste for one young miss. Years ago.

      ‘I will be less than a moment,’ she said. The air reeked of attar of roses, bay rum and hot bodies. Eleanor plied her fan, hoping to stir up enough air to give some respite from the heat as she strolled around the dance floor, twice. No sign of them. Nor were they anywhere else in the room. She was sure of it. She’d know if Garrick was present.

      She headed for the doors, squeezing between tight knots of people trying to make themselves heard over the din.

      Finally, she made it into the hallway. It was like going from Bedlam into a sanctuary. She took a breath. Where would they have gone? She would certainly have a word with Cecelia about disappearing without a chaperon. And Garrick would also get a piece of her mind.

      Halfway along the corridor, she met a blond fresh-faced lieutenant in a dark green uniform coming the other way. He hesitated as she approached.

      ‘Lady Eleanor?’

      Eleanor frowned. He looked familiar, but she could not place him.

      He smiled and bowed, his vivid blue eyes twinkling. ‘Dan Smith, my lady.’

      ‘Dan? Oh, my goodness, I would never have recognised you. A lieutenant, too. Congratulations.’ He had been a bright young lad four years ago and the war had obviously given him a golden opportunity for advancement.

      ‘My lord, the Marquess, put in a good word.’ Dan spoke with pride and affection.

      His words brought Eleanor back to her quest. ‘Have you seen the Marquess and Lady Cecilia?’

      ‘I believe they went into the drawing room. They have cards set out there. May I escort you?’

      She smiled her agreement and took his arm. They walked along the brightly lit corridor, their footfalls making no sound on the thick Aubusson rug. Her heart knocked a protest at the thought of facing Garrick. She’d hoped to avoid him entirely.

      The card room proved to be vacant except for a couple of elderly men playing whist. Dan looked around nonplussed. Disappointed, she turned to leave. The curtains rippled in the draught of an open window. She glanced at Dan. His expression tightened.

      Before Eleanor could say anything, the young man strode to the curtain and drew it back, revealing an open French door. He stepped through. Eleanor followed on to the torch-lit balcony.

      Sitting on a stone seat with her skirts above her calf, Sissy’s stockinged foot rested on the bent knee of the gentleman kneeling before her. The Marquess, for that was who it was filling her pink satin slipper with champagne, glanced up with a wicked grin.

      Eleanor’s ribs squeezed tight. She could not hold back her gasp. ‘Cecelia! What are you doing?’

      Her face alight with laughter, the child looked up. ‘Len? Isn’t he the most ridiculous man alive?’ She giggled. ‘I think I’m going to lose my wager.’

      She sounded foxed. They were on the brink of disaster. Scandal loomed a mere whisper away. Eleanor’s lips felt tight, her jaw felt tight, her skin felt tight—if she took a breath, she might fly apart. She kept her voice low. ‘And what did you wager, may I ask?’

      ‘A kiss.’

      Dan stiffened.

      Even a commoner found this kind of behaviour appalling. She snatched the slipper from the Marquess and emptied its contents over the railing. ‘Sissy, put this on, at once.’

      As he rose to his feet, Garrick’s mouth curled in a cynical smile. ‘Good evening, Lady Eleanor.’

      She ground her teeth, rather than throw the slipper at his head.

      ‘Lady Cecilia,’ Garrick said softly, ‘I’m afraid your sister doesn’t believe in the principle that one’s word is one’s bond, do you, my lady?’

      A low blow, indeed, directed at her reneging on their bargain and far more painful than a slap to the face. Eleanor knew she must have gone red from the prickling heat in her cheeks and throat. Pretending not to hear, she pushed Cecilia’s foot into her damp footwear and pulled her upright. ‘Come back to the ballroom before anyone notices.’

      ‘My lady,’ Lieutenant Smith said, his voice low, full of concern. ‘Might I suggest that if I escort Lady Cecilia and my lord takes your arm, it will look as though the four of us took a stroll?’

      Eleanor glanced at him with gratitude ‘You are very kind, Lieutenant Smith.’

      ‘An outflanking manoeuvre, Dan?’ The Marquess’s voice from the shadows sounded dangerous. Then he gave a short laugh. ‘I surrender. This time.’

      Dan offered his hand to Cecilia and she looked up at him.

      ‘Cecilia, this is Lieutenant Dan Smith,’ Eleanor said.

      ‘Lady Cecilia,’ Lieutenant Smith murmured, his ears pink.

      ‘Lieutenant, a pleasure.’ Cecelia’s smile was a little lopsided, but very sweet.

      A slightly bemused expression on his face, the